


The Time Of The Blues

by Elwen_of_the_hidden_valley



Category: TOLKIEN J. R. R. - Works & Related Fandoms, The Lord of the Rings - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Gen, Post-Quest
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-29
Updated: 2016-02-29
Packaged: 2018-05-23 23:02:21
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,526
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6133156
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Elwen_of_the_hidden_valley/pseuds/Elwen_of_the_hidden_valley
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Ring has been destroyed but the land is broken and there is much to be put right.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Time Of The Blues

**Author's Note:**

> This is fanfiction based upon the works of JRR Tolkien. I don't own any of the characters and places.

The times of the Grey and the White were ended. Now was the time for the Brown and the Blues.

Radagast was working away in the east, where Greenwood was beginning to flourish once more beneath his kind, if absentminded touch. Animals were returning to nest and burrow amongst trees now cleansed of web and weavers.

Talannola and Ranalohta had chosen to work upon the valley of the birth of the Rivannon today. Water now ran clearer from the mines of Moria but it still formed a stagnant pool at the foot of the now broken doors of the Dwarrowdelf.

Talannola picked his way along the edge of the cliff, blue robes frayed and faded to the colour of the surrounding granite. It was easy to see where orcs had piled stones into the shallow curving edge, blocking the outflow of the small river. The istari leaned out perilously to check the steps of the empty falls of Lomin-dimrost below him. The land must be healed but not at the expense of new life. No trees had taken root in the years that the falls had been blocked so his brother would not need to do any clearing before they started today’s work.

Balancing perfectly upon the thin ledge Talannola planted his staff into the slimy water, grimacing as a foetid smell enveloped him. “Something, or several somethings, have died in this water,” he called to his companion.

Ranalohta turned from his examination of the two remaining holly trees. “Then it will provide food for the planting,” was his pragmatic reply.

Talannola pursed his lips, not at all certain that whatever had died here would provide healthy nourishment. But he kept his thoughts to himself for the moment as he placed a hand upon the slimy rocks and began to focus his power. The dam was crudely constructed and the now more swiftly flowing Rivannon was already placing a great deal of pressure on the poorly designed structure. Now Talannola stood with a smile, lifting his staff from the mire and touching it to a single stone just beneath the waters’ surface.

Glancing across to Ranalohta he grinned broadly before uttering one simple word, “Break.” Then he gathered up his flapping robes and leapt nimbly from rock to rock, back to firmer ground. For a moment there was no sign that his word had produced any results. Slowly at first, there were several popping sounds, like corn in a hot pan, accompanied by little puffs of dust and growing in frequency. The centre of the dam seemed to sink, then pause briefly before curling outward and down over the edge of the cliff. Huge boulders could be heard crashing from shelf to shelf down the rock face. 

Even now, the water in the lake seemed so viscous that it hung, unsupported for a moment even after the dam had gone. Talannola pursed his lips again, eyes narrowing as he flicked the tip of his staff into the uncooperative liquid. “Oh, go on,” he muttered. The fluid obeyed, sluggishly at first, like obscene black icing down the side of some unpalatable cake, then faster. Both wizards watched in satisfaction as the trickle became a runnel, then a river and finally a torrent. 

Talannola wafted a hand in front of his face at the stench that was released then resorted to pinching his nose as something putrid and very bulky splashed over the edge of the cliff in the centre of the newly recreated falls. They would probably have to take care of that later.

The release of pressure in the lake seemed to be all the encouragement Rivannon needed, for the usually small river issuing from the cliff suddenly gushed forth even faster, the clear water scouring away slimy mud from the basin before settling into her old worn channel from cliff to falls. The wizard leaned out again to admire his handiwork and grinned as he saw clean water splashing from ledge to ledge in a sparkling torrent that birthed rainbows at every fall. Turning back to his companion he strode quickly across the newly scoured stone.

Ranalohta was standing quietly beneath one of the holly trees. “Did you see it?”

“Aye. We may have to bury it later, if it is not flushed away. We may be fortunate. It was much decomposed and may simply break apart and flow out to sea. Let us hope it had no cousins.”  


“It may. But I suspect they are deep within the roots of the mountain, where they belong. I do not think they will rise to the surface again.”

Talannola shrugged. “If he has time we could ask Radagast to examine the mountain later.”

Ranalohta shook his head. “You’ll not get our brown brother down there. He is too fond of the sunlight.”

“True. Oh well, if dwarves return to Moria they will have to clear out their own cellars.” He took in the ruin of the doors. “It is certain they will have plenty of rebuilding to do.”

Ranalohta sniffed. “Mayhap they will be more selective in their delving next time.” He was looking about him as he spoke and now he swept aside his deep blue-green robes, hunkering down to run a hand over the freshly scoured stone.

Talannola wrapped arms about his staff, resting his cheek against the polished round sapphire at its apex. He frowned. “What will you do about this? Not even you can get flowers to bloom in bare rock.”

His companion stood once more, dusting off his finely embroidered robes. “I was hoping you could assist with that.” He tilted his clean shaven face in query.

His more hirsute friend only lifted shaggy eyebrows and Ranalohta shook his head, as one clearly disappointed in the intelligence of another. “Talannola, soil is just rock that has been broken down by root and element. Do you truly expect me to believe that, through all these years dealing with land in its various forms, you have not established that?” He ran an exasperated hand over his bald head, rolling his eyes.

Talannola graced him with a lopsided grin before straightening to take his staff in hand once more. “You had better step back against the walls. This could get messy,” he warned a trifle too gleefully for his brother’s liking.

Ranalohta obeyed, taking shelter behind one of the two remaining holly trees. “Where you are involved it can only be messy,” he murmured.

Talannola’s grin grew wider as he started to quarter the small valley, tapping the end of his staff loudly against the rock with each step. When he reached the shelter of the trees once more he swept the staff in a wide arc and shouted, “Break and powder!” At a series of loud cracking sounds Ranalohta leaned closer to his tree, which bent to shelter him between its prickly arms. The cracking was joined by a popping and then a rumble and both wizards took shelter as the air was suddenly filled with dust. Ranalohta drew up the hood of his robe, tugging an fold over his mouth and nose and closing his eyes.

Talannola laughed out loud, revelling in the chaos only briefly before descending into a chocking cough. He had hardly the breath to shout, “Stop!” and for a moment he worried that the rock had not heard him. Then sound abated and all was silent . . . but for the coughing and gasping of two blue wizards.

Ranalohta was the first to catch his breath and his voice was muffled beneath a layer of cloth. “You just have to turn it into a show,” he complained.

Talannola blinked open red rimmed eyes in time to see the dust settle. He stepped from behind his tree, tugging his already tattered robes free of the holly’s prickly embrace and shrugging when it resulted in a few more rents. Ranalohta took a few moments to shake the dust from his robes so the tree had time to release him before he moved, and the wizard laid a hand on its gnarled bole in thanks before stepping free.

Before them was a wide bowl of fine dust, several inches deep. Ranalohta had to give praise, however grudging. This would have taken hundreds of years to achieve without the earth wizard’s assistance. “Well done,” was all he managed however. Talannola took it for the high praise it was and slapped his brother on the back, leaving a dusty handprint that he did not bother to remove. In some deference to Ranalohta’s sensibilities, however, he did move away a few steps before shaking himself like a dog, sending up more clouds of dust.

Ranalohta sneezed. “We could do with some rain. I cannot plant in dry dust,” he commented as he squinted up at the empty sky.

Talannola considered for a moment. “We are not weather wise. That was Curunir’s speciality. I could ask the river to help?” he offered.

His brother’s brow furrowed. “Only if you can do it gently this time. We do not want all that dust washing away over the cliff again.”

To his credit, Talannola squirmed a little. “That was not me. The land wanted rid of that sludge so the river obliged. You probably could not have grown anything healthy in it anyway. I can ask her to flood gently. I’m certain Rivannon will cooperate.”

For a moment Ranalohta looked sceptical but he needed damp earth so he nodded, but not before taking refuge on slightly higher ground to protect his boots. His companion stepped up to the river’s edge, touching his staff to the clear water and murmuring softly. The level rose, slowly but surely, until it began to overflow the banks and creep out across the newly formed soil. Within only a few minutes the whole valley was covered with a couple of inches of slow moving water. At another whispered word from Talannola it retreated just as slowly, leaving thick mud in its wake. 

The wizard flicked water from the tip of his staff and turned to bow low to Ranalohta who shook his head in despair at his brother’s irrepressible good humour before glancing up at the sky once more. His eyes narrowed as he pointed to a dark cloud moving swiftly toward them. “Radagast, do you think?” he asked.

Shading his eyes Talannola followed his gaze. “Birds,” he announced as he shook mud off his boots. “So it probably is. Although where he thinks they’re going to roost I’m sure I don’t know. They’ll not all fit on those two poor old souls.” As if in agreement the two gnarled holly trees shivered, which at least had the effect of shaking the dust off their glossy leaves.

Once overhead the cloud did indeed resolve itself into a huge flock of birds. That they were of all different species attested to the fact that they had been sent by the brown wizard. A rook separated from the wheeling crowd, diving down to drop a small scroll of paper at Ranalohta’s feet. The wizard picked it up, unrolling it and holding it where both could read the terrible scrawl of writing.

 

_You need seeds so I’ve sent some with my friends. Just tell them what you want planting and where._

_PS. They’ve promised not to eat any of them on the way._

 

Ranalohta considered the words for a few moments before grasping their meaning and then stepping into the middle of the valley. “Very well. Let me see if they will listen to me.” He looked up at the cloud of silent birds then waved about him with a slightly embarrassed air. “Er . . . I need grass everywhere.” He waited, hoping that Radagast had sense enough to instruct the birds to obey his brother Istari. Radagast was not the most rational of fellows in Ranalohta’s eyes.

A large detachment of sparrows descended and Ranalohta had to duck as they spread out over the valley, dropping a rain of seeds. He bent to examine some that landed at his feet and discovered that they were indeed, grass seeds of several different varieties. Relieved of their burden the sparrows formed a now squabbling mass and flew away, back towards the plains of Rohan, where they had no doubt gleaned their gift.

Talannola grinned at their antics and settled back against a holly tree to watch his brother in action. Ranalohta grew more confident, arranging shrubs and trees along the river banks and in clumps to form shade, once they were grown of course; then sprinkling the whole with wild flowers. The last bird, a raven, swooped down to drop a cluster of red berries in Ranalohta’s hands before flying off to join his companions as they winged over the mountains.

Ranalohta triumphantly waved the cluster at his friend, his face brightening with a rare smile. “Holly!” He picked off the scarlet berries one by one and pushed them into the soil in a double row beside the river, where the road to the gates of Moria had once run. Talannola folded his arms, aware that the real magic was about to begin. 

Spreading his heavy robes about him Ranalohta knelt in the soft damp earth. This was probably the only thing that would have induced him to mark his usually pristine garments. Planting the tip of his vine wrapped staff in the dirt at his side, he dug his fingers deep into the soil and began to sing, softly. Even Talannola could not understand the words, for they came not from the head but the fae and only Ranalohta had been gifted with this particular magic by Yavanna.

A green mist spread over the land, slowly resolving into blades of grass. As the song grew louder and more complex in its’ melody other plants began to sprout, growing taller with each word until bright splashes of pink and yellow burgeoned amongst the grass; orchid, campion, coltsfoot and cow parsley. Holly bushes sprouted, their glossy leaves a dark contrast to the pale spring green of the meadow. Here and there saplings appeared; oak, ash, hawthorn, chestnut and sycamore. When the echoes of the last note faded the whole valley was verdant and the air was filled with the complex perfumes of a thousand growing things.

Ranalohta opened his eyes and looked about him with a satisfied smile, brushing soil from his hands and knees as he stood. Talannola strode towards him, grinning broadly as he hugged his brother firmly. “That is a job well done. In only fifty years this valley will be returned to its former glory.”

Surveying his once again dusty robes, Ranalohta sighed. He was sure he had a clothes brush somewhere in his pack. It was well for it appeared that if he was going to be travelling with Talannola for any length of time it would see much use.

For his part, Talannola was already striding away, calling over his shoulder, “Come on, brother. No time to admire the work. Dead Marshes next and it’s a long walk.” 

END

 

Ranalohta – Wonderer who puts forth flowers (Quenya)  
Talannola - Ground wise (Quenya)  
Lomin-dimrost - Echoing rainy stair (Sindarin)


End file.
